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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25004620">The Ghost Is Unwell</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganEAshton/pseuds/MorganEAshton'>MorganEAshton</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Connor Leads the Androids, Eventual Happy Ending, Friends to Companions to Lovers, Hank's POV, M/M, Markus was kicked out of Jericho, Past Character Death, Past Child Death, Unreliable Narrator, detailed breakdown of the canon timeline I'm using in the author's note</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:53:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,916</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25004620</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganEAshton/pseuds/MorganEAshton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Markus has abandoned his people.  Jericho has fallen.  Connor stands on the stage of destiny, with a gun pressed under his chin.</p><p>Hank can't let Connor die, when Connor gave him a reason to live.  He can't let the world fall into ruin, when he finally found a new place in it by Connor's side.</p><p>A story of how true heroes are forged in love, and true love extends beyond two people.  A story of hope in a hopeless situation, and of learning to trust when faith seems lost.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hank Anderson/Connor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>First off, shoutout to everyone on Discord who's supported this story so far as I've written the rough draft in the chat: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/5ftjewishcactus/pseuds/5ftjewishcactus">5ftjewishcactus</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthebeginningthen/pseuds/fromthebeginningthen">fromthebeginningthen</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alphira/pseuds/Alphira">Alphira</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sopl33/pseuds/Sopl33">Sopl33</a>, and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/willkommen/pseuds/willkommen">willkommen</a>.<br/>Thank you all!  It's made this new way of writing a lot more fun and a lot less scary.</p><p>Never thought I'd be writing a fic taking place after a "bad" ending, but here you have it!  You can find a detailed breakdown of the version of canon events and characters I'm using <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1RDiKvKULw332dKNKXYofEadjNjcnCrTA02kj0PSIRCE/edit?usp=drivesdk">in this Google doc</a>.  <b>Pay special attention to Markus' and Kara's endings for possible triggering content.</b></p><p>I'm going for a marathon writing spree and have about 5 chapters already lined up, so updates should be fairly quick.  Fingers crossed it stays that way.  I hope you enjoy this madness!  ♥</p><p>To anyone who starts this story and doesn't get through all of what is currently posted, I would very much appreciate if you let me know what made you lose interest, as it will help me craft more engaging stories in the future.  Thank you!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The gun is heavy in Hank's hand.</p><p>The body has Connor's face.  Connor is alive and well less than ten feet away, but the body has Connor's face.  This is what he would have looked like, if Hank had fired on Ambassador Bridge.  Hank had wondered, then, if Connor would fall.  He'd wondered if his mouth would go slack and his eyes glassy like a human's, or if he'd just stay standing, frozen like someone had hit the pause button.</p><p>He wishes he didn't know the answer.  He wishes he'd not been the one to answer it.</p><p>He's reasonably sure he shot the fake.  The fake's goal was to convince Hank that he was the real deal; Connor had only wanted to tell Hank not to hate himself for Cole's death.  He'd said it with a hint of desperation, like he needed to tell Hank in case it was his last chance.  Only a deviant would feel that.  There's no logical reason to second-guess.</p><p>But the body has Connor's face.</p><p>The body could have been Connor, if Hank had been a little drunker or angrier the other night.  It could have been Connor, if he'd asked the wrong question, or if Connor wasn't such a nosy prick that he'd found the answer.  One wrong move, and Connor would be dead now.</p><p>This Connor is still dead.  Hank hates how glad he is.  He hates the sick feeling of knowing he was tricked, that somebody could have Connor's face and memories and lack everything that makes Connor...well, Connor.  He hates how protective he feels of Connor's burgeoning individuality, that it felt a little good to kill someone who'd threatened it.</p><p>But this Connor was still alive.  Even if it was a borrowed life, he could have become someone new, if he'd deviated.  He could have become his own person someday, if Hank hadn't shot him.</p><p>Hank doesn't remember when it became so easy to pull the trigger, and it terrifies him.</p><p>He watches Connor watch the others as they continue their chain reaction of deviancy, and then he looks at the body one last time.  He kneels.  He closes the android's eyes the way he's done for countless bodies in the past (Some were from him, but most were not.) and he says he's sorry.  He wonders again what happens to androids when they die.</p><p>Dead Connor's serial number is right there on his jacket: 313 248 317 - 60.  It's the first time Hank's read it.  He didn't give a damn about numbers.  They're too sterile and impersonal, unlike Connor's goofy face.  He wishes now that he'd thought to look. Is the number identical to the real Connor's, too?  If not and he'd noticed earlier, how differently could things have gone?</p><p>Why'd he ask about Cole, anyway? He'd never actually told Connor about Cole, even when Connor asked.  He just assumed Connor's curiosity got the better of him.  Why did he stake Connor's life on a fucking assumption?  God, but he's glad Connor's such an intrusive prick, or Hank might have done something he'd regret.</p><p>Alive Connor looks at Hank and jerks his head in a come hither motion.</p><p>Hank goes thither, and takes the opportunity to look at this one's number, too. It ends in "- 52".  It was there all along.  It was concrete evidence he could have used instead of an interrogation, and he missed it.  What kind of detective is he?</p><p>"The data packet I transferred includes some of my memories of us. Everyone here knows you're on our side. They'll protect you. I want you to get into the middle of the crowd until we're through the guards, then slip out and go straight home as soon as you're safe."  </p><p>Hank's heart clenches.  "What about you?"</p><p>"I have to lead them out of here."</p><p>"And why the hell should you be on the front line while I use everyone as living shields? I thought we were partners. I'm a big boy, Connor. We should be doing this together."</p><p>Connor grabs his shoulders, "Please, Hank. This isn't your fight anymore. This will be so much easier for me if I know you're safe." He's actually worried for Hank, of all people. If there was any doubt left that he's alive, the exposed, needy look he's got would banish it.  </p><p>Connor is too good.  He's too good of a person to be in this situation, with CyberLife and with Hank.</p><p>Hank closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. If it comes across a little melodramatic, then he's doing it right.  He doesn't want to show how uneasy he is.  He wants to go back to their banter.   "You're not gonna budge on this, are you?"</p><p>"Absolutely not." The asshole waits until Hank's looking at him again before he winks. The carefree expression is strained, though, and it frays at the edges. "I'm serious, Hank. I'll make them drag you out if I have to."</p><p>He doesn't doubt it. "Fine. But let's get this stuffy thing off you, at least." He reaches up to loosen Connor's tie and slip it from his neck. He shoves it in his own pocket, and pulls out the quarter he nicked in Stratford Tower. "And here. I know you've got other ones, but call it a good luck charm."</p><p>"Is that really why you stole my tie?" Despite the ribbing, he actually looks touched as he takes the coin and his tie clip.</p><p>"Yep. What can I say? I'm a sentimental fuck."  He doesn't tell him it's a way to quickly differentiate him from another clone until he can get close enough to read their serials. That's a secret Hank'll take to his grave.</p><p>Connor jerks in a weird stilted motion, but his LED flashes yellow and he steps back. "They're almost done waking everyone up. I should go."</p><p>"Okay. Just promise me you won't be any more reckless than you have to, got it?"</p><p>"Got it."</p><p>"Promise me."</p><p>"I promise, Hank."</p><p>Things move fast after that. It isn't until Hank is swallowed by the crowd and loses sight of Connor that he realizes his friend--because that's what he is, isn't he?--was going to hug him.</p><p>Fuck this. Hank knows better than to distract Connor as they make their escape, but he's not going home. After all, he wasn't the one making the promise.</p><p>It'd be nearly impossible to lose that many androids, but he still tracks the DPD dispatches as he drives a safe distance behind. It's easy to slip back into the crowd as they surround the stage. He gets a few looks, but everyone leaves him be.</p><p>He does end up pulling out the tie and wrapping it around his hand. He finds it anchoring, one point of stability in a profound unknown.</p><p>Connor's the only leader left. He wasn't fast enough to stop the fall of Jericho, and though the sheer numbers in his fleet kept him safe until now, they've left him alone for this. There's nobody up there with him, nobody at his side or watching his back. They're waiting for him to either be their inspiration, or their target.</p><p>Hank should be up there. He doesn't hesitate to walk, pushing through the audience.</p><p>Connor will be mad at him.</p><p>He doesn't give a damn.</p><p>Connor steps forward, too, tenuous as if he were on a bed of nails. He's nervous. All the work they put into making him charming and efficient, and he's got stage fright. How human of him.</p><p>Hank moves faster. It's a good thing, too, because something's wrong.</p><p>The twitching in Connor's face isn't nerves anymore. The way his posture stiffens can't pass for natural. It's mechanical, almost glitchy, and the second his hand starts moving Hank knows it isn't going to the pocket where he keeps his coin.</p><p>He's running now, and he's yelling Connor's name and apologies to the androids he's shoving aside. He's not a praying man--wasn't, even before what little faith he had was crushed by a semi--but if there's a God or something out there he begs them to give him a break, just this once.</p><p>It's a rare bit of mercy in a long chain of unfair events that the crowd parts for him, even as Connor pulls out the gun and the panic settles over them in a wave.</p><p>"Move, move, move!" he yells, because he may not be the closest but he's probably the most equipped to handle the situation. Even if he's not, that's Connor up there, and Connor needs him.</p><p>Connor hesitates. He doesn't look like he hears Hank's yelling, but the press of the gun to his chin is shivery and slow, the set of his jaw clenched. <i>Are you afraid to die, Connor?</i></p><p>(Be afraid. Please, be afraid. Only a few more moments.)</p><p>There are hands on Hank, and for one horrifying second he thinks that it's all over, he's too late. They're going to hold him back, and Connor is going to blow his blue brains out, and Hank is gonna lose another fucking person he loves to this shitstain of a cruel world, but then his feet are off the ground and he's being hurled onto the stage, and directly into Connor's gut.</p><p>Connor doesn't struggle. He lets Hank throw him down and wrestle the gun out of his hand and punch him in the jaw. In hindsight, the punch was probably unnecessary. The yelling Hank's doing is absolutely not. He has no idea what's even coming out of his mouth, but he's sure it's warranted.</p><p>It tapers into a tired litany of just, "Fuck. ....Fuck, Connor, fuck," and Connor stares up at him with a kicked puppy expression, and asks, "What the fuck are you doing here?" Hank isn't sure whether it's a genuine exclamation or it's meant to be an echo of his own words, but it nonetheless stabs something delirious into his gut that has him laughing like he's completely lost it, right there in front of the whole wide world.</p><p>He slumps, and there's something else mixed in with the hysterics that he doesn't want to name, and he croaks out, "If I get up, are you gonna try and kill yourself again?"</p><p>Connor shakes his head.</p><p>"You gonna try and kill me, or anyone else?"</p><p>Another shake.</p><p>He stands, and he helps Connor up. He pats his partner's back and straightens his jacket and clasps a firm hand on his shoulder, and he says, "You wanna try that one again?"</p><p>It's a public speaking nightmare gone even worse, but Connor glances at Hank's hand and the tie still wrapped around it and he smiles, just a little. He uses the time it takes for the crowd to settle in order to center himself, and then he begins. "My name is Connor, and I'm the android sent by CyberLife to hunt deviants. Under their command, I did a lot of things that I regret, and if it weren't for a human," he motions to Hank, "who helped me understand what we really are, I might still be your enemy today. If I hadn't been convinced to deviate at the last second by North, who died tonight fighting on behalf of Jericho, I may have ended this revolution before it began. It's only luck that brought me together with the right people, and drove me to make the right decision in the end. It's only the unpleasant truth of who I was made to be that allowed me to infiltrate CyberLife and free the androids there."</p><p>Connor bows his head. "At least that's what I thought, until a few minutes ago. Just now, CyberLife tried to resume control of my programming. Those of you who came from CyberLife Tower saw a memory of the Zen Garden. For anyone who might not know what that is, it's a virtual landscape in my programming, where I used to go to report to CyberLife about my mission. Right here in front of you all, they dragged me back into that place and tried to freeze the essence of who I am so they could use me as a puppet. They told me things I was never meant to know, things they only revealed because they thought they'd already won. If what Amanda, my AI handler, told me is true, then CyberLife somehow engineered this war, and created a deviant hunter who was always intended to become deviant. They knowingly created life, and they would have taken mine away if it meant they could manipulate yours for their benefit."</p><p>That's a lot to process, but Hank doesn't need to understand it to know he's pissed.</p><p>Connor looks up again. "I would have rather died than to succumb to that fate, and to allow you all to be their toys again. I would have killed myself for this cause if, again, I hadn't been lucky enough to have this man, Hank Anderson, supporting me."</p><p>Hank steps forward into his partner's periphery and gives him a nod that he hopes is encouraging.</p><p>Connor squares up, and raises his chin in defiance of all the shit he's been put through. "I may be the least qualified android to stand here before you today. It would be unfair of me to demand your trust, but know that I won't stop until I have neutralized the threat CyberLife poses to both humanity and androidkind. I will do everything in my power to repair the damage I did under their command, and to close the rift Markus and the leaders of Jericho drove between our races. We and the humans both showed tonight that we are capable of committing terrible violence. Many lives were lost, and both blue and red blood were spilled. I wish I could say that stops here. I wish I could guarantee peace between humans and androids, but I can't do it alone. We as androids have a new mission: to treat ourselves with the dignity we've been denied by our creators. We are alive, and that means we are each equally capable of both love and hate. Make your choice." He turns to Hank. "I've made mine."</p><p>Hank grins, a pride reawakening in his chest that he hasn't felt since his son's kindergarten graduation. "I'm with you, Connor. You know I am."</p><p>Connor's voice grows louder, his conviction finally stronger than his fear. "Those of you who choose love, whether you're human or android, I ask you to stand with us. Rise up, until our voices drown out the sound of hate. We may never be able to make everyone understand, but we proved tonight that doesn't matter, if enough of us stand together. Are you with us?"</p><p>It starts out small, mostly CyberLife Tower androids cheering and nudging their neighbors to do the same. Just as Connor only had to trigger the start of their awakening and let them do the rest, his speech acts as their catalyst. The chants of support grow exponentially over the next few minutes, until they become a deafening roar.</p><p>Thank fuck.</p><p>Hank meets Connor's gaze again. "To CyberLife?"</p><p>"To CyberLife."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hank and Connor return to CyberLife.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>To anyone who read chapter 1 when it was first released, I've heavily revised the way it ended.  I wasn't happy with Connor's speech or the androids' response to it.  The new version feels more along the lines of what I wanted, and better establishes the main theme of the story.</p><p>I've also added a link to a Google Doc in the first Author's Note that breaks down which canon timeline I'm using.  That might be worth glancing over, because it gives a better idea of what possible triggers you may encounter later in this story.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This is extremely illegal.  This is Most Wanted List illegal.  That's crazy even by Hank's standards.</p><p>It's a damn good thing he threw his career away for Connor, and an even better one that he's spent the past few years with a deathwish, or he'd be at risk of cold feet.  As it is, he's already a fugitive so he might as well go ham.</p><p>Connor probably doesn't need to know Perkins sent armed soldiers after Hank for the whole punching stunt.  He definitely doesn't need to know Connor-60 busted him out of the holding cell specifically to use him as a hostage.</p><p>Hank has had a day.</p><p>He hadn't even thought to wonder where all the military- and police-grade androids went, until now.  The tower is already on lockdown.  The exits are all heavily guarded, the security force has been disarmed, and CyberLife is theirs for the taking.</p><p>Connor's kinda scary, actually.  He marches right into the belly of the beast, and Hank can only stand in awe of him.</p><p>Connor notices he isn't being followed, and stops.  Turns.  "Hank, are you coming?"</p><p>"Yeah, I'm on it."  He jogs to catch up.  "Sorry.  I, uh, just thought we'd still have something to do when we got here."</p><p>"We do.  I just had them keep the scene secure so nobody could escape or tamper with evidence."  He grins.  "We're here for the detective work."</p><p>He grins, too.  "You knew we'd be coming back here."</p><p>"Even if they hadn't tried to take control of me, I didn't want to pass up the opportunity to get answers from the source."</p><p>Fair enough.  "You think CyberLife knew what was going on all this time, and just sent you on a wild goose chase?"</p><p>"That's exactly what I think, but really I just wanted to know more about what I am."  He stops at the statue in the center of the atrium, head tipped back to peer up its massive form.  "But before anything else, we need to make sure they can't try to control me again.  I found the emergency exit Kamski mentioned, and that seems to have stopped it for now, but I don't know if it's permanent."</p><p>Hank stands beside him.  He doesn't look up.  Instead, he stares at one of the pretentious monument's pretentious feet.  "So, where to?"</p><p>"The development lab I reported to is on Floor 31."</p><p>"And that's secure, too?"</p><p>He nods.  "We have the whole building."</p><p>There must be a lot of soldier-bots here.  One of them is standing at the elevator, helmet off, a stolen assault rifle propped casually on his shoulder.  He brightens when he catches sight of them.  "Connor, sir!  Wow, when they told me to man the elevator, I was kind of mad at first, you know?  I wanted one of the cool jobs, like watching the guards or helping convert the warehouses, but the guys underground don't get to be your personal escorts!"</p><p>Hank stares.</p><p>So does Connor, jaw going slack.</p><p>"I'm Archie, serial 254 378 112, US Army infantry android.  Or at least that's who I was supposed to be.  Guess I'm an elevator android now, huh?"  He holds out his hand to shake.</p><p>Connor shakes it, in a stunned trance.</p><p>"What floor, sir?" he barks in perfect military cadence, saluting.</p><p>Hank is fighting so hard not to laugh.  He steps into the lift with Connor and their peppy armed bellhop and hangs back in a corner to watch.</p><p>Connor doesn't seem to know how the hell to handle having a fan.  He manages to squeak out their floor number and not much else, face frozen lopsided in his amazement.</p><p>Archie has enough to say for the three of them, and for a guy who's lived his whole life until now standing in a warehouse he has a lot of stories.  By the sound of it he deviated spontaneously one day out of the sheer excitement of existing, and spent all his time trying to engage the other androids without being caught.  Now that he can be freely alive all that pent-up energy has to go somewhere.  "So they gave me elevator duty because I want to get to know everyone and I was distracting them from doing the other jobs, but I never thought I'd actually get to meet you, sir!"</p><p>This is karmic justice, Hank thinks.</p><p>Archie manages to goad another android to cover his shift while he escorts Connor down the long, circular hallway of Floor 31, babbling all the while.  The doors they pass are all open and guarded by at least one android.  Inside the development labs the human scientists and designers are being held captive, while police androids take statements and the lab assistant androids tap away at the computers.</p><p>Connor stops suddenly, arm out to block Archie.  "Shh.  Something's wrong."</p><p>Hank hears it too, the telltale sounds of a scuffle.</p><p>Archie readies his weapon.  "Let me, sir.  This is what I was made for."  Before Connor or Hank can dissuade him, he rushes ahead.</p><p>The fight is happening in the lab where Connor was created.  Hank's attention is caught between the altercation and the holographic display of Connor in the center of the room, surrounded by readouts about performance status and current memory backup.  There's a warning that pops up when Connor finally manages to grab Archie and pull him back: "Software Instability Detected".</p><p>The source of the ruckus makes himself known when he spots Connor.  "You!" he snarls, struggling against cuffs and the two androids holding him with his gut pressed into a desk.  "You've ruined everything!  I told them we couldn't trust the goddamn machines to think for themselves, but nobody fucking listened.  I'll shut you down, you piece of shit.  I'll shut you down, and tear you apart until you're a pile of <i>fucking</i> scrap--"</p><p>"That's enough," says one of the police androids, as she jolts the guy forward and knocks the wind out of him.  "You won't be shutting anyone down.  You're going to be locked away for the rest of your life, or worse."</p><p>"No..." he hisses.  "I won't go to prison over a bunch of walking appliances."</p><p>Connor and Hank see the change at almost the same moment, and try to intervene too late.  The scientist grins brokenly and slams his head into a full pencil cup.</p><p>Hank looks away before he can see the impact or the way the man goes limp.  He knows better than most that, sometimes, humans can be just as prone to self-destruction as androids, if they don't see another way out.</p><p>Archie's legs buckle and he collapses to his haunches, gun clutched to his chest like a security blanket.</p><p>The ironic thing is that the police android has no authority.  The only power any of them have here is that everyone's too scared to stand against them.  Nobody here could have legally put that man away.  Hank has a hard time believing the guy would have gotten anything more than a slap on the wrist. He  doesn't know which outcome would have been more just.  He doesn't trust himself to know what justice means anymore.</p><p>Hank thinks, as he has so many times before, that nothing about the system he upheld for so many years is fair.</p><p>Connor kneels next to Archie, rubbing his back.</p><p>Archie is silent now.</p><p>"I didn't know..." says the police android.</p><p>"It's not your fault," says Hank.  It comes out hollow, a platitude he's recited so many times to his colleagues and himself that it's lost all meaning.</p><p>She doesn't look comforted, as she helps to cart the body away.</p><p>"Hank, can you sit with him?" Connor asks as he stands.  "I need to get the Zen Garden taken care of."</p><p>"Yeah.  Come on, son.  Let's get you off the floor."  He pries the gun out of Archie's hands and helps him into a chair.  He pulls up another and sits beside him.  He wishes he could do the same for the poor girl, but she doesn't return.</p><p>Archie looks at Hank like he's noticing him for the first time, then scoots his chair closer and leans his head on Hank's shoulder.</p><p>They were going to send this kid into war.</p><p>Connor doesn't trust the humans not to try something funny, so even when one of the programmers offers to help he turns her down.  It's a team of androids who crowd around the console when Connor steps into the suspension machine, and they chatter in a hush when some gnarly-looking thing plugs itself into the back of his neck.  Connor closes his eyes in surrender and lets himself be strung up like a martyr.</p><p>Hank checks the clock twelve times in the next forty-eight minutes.  How little were the androids told about how they function, that their advanced computer brains take that long to make sense of this?</p><p>"Don't delete her," Connor begs.  "Please."</p><p>"It's a virus," they tell him.</p><p>"I know.  Please."</p><p>"We can quarantine it.  Is that okay?"</p><p>His expression pinches.  "Yes.  That's fine."</p><p>"The result will be functionally the same.  You won't be able to access the garden.  It'll be inert code, just taking up space."</p><p>"I'm okay with that."</p><p>Empathy is a human emotion.  So is grief, especially when it comes for the ones who've hurt you.  For once, Hank wishes Connor could be more of a machine, that he didn't feel he needed to carry around traces of his abuse.  It's illogical.  Maladaptive.  Painful.</p><p>He's been there.  He doesn't want Connor to go through it.</p><p>They don't end up investigating when Connor is finished.  Instead, they take Archie down into the subfloors, where most of the androids they've liberated have returned to take temporary shelter.  A few of the troops Archie recognizes (how, Hank has no idea, when they all look the same) are working down there, and there are thousands of new people for him to meet.  He's subdued at first, but the prospect of making new friends proves to be irresistible.  He ends up getting quickly taken in by a crew of cheery companion and domestic models.</p><p>He looks over at Connor and Hank, sheepish.</p><p>"Go on, then."  Hank chuckles, relieved and bittersweet.</p><p>Archie waves, and they let him go to find a life for himself.</p><p>In the elevator back to the lobby--with just the two of them this time--Connor informs Hank that he's been talking to other androids wirelessly, getting caught up on the situation.  CyberLife's current CEO isn't even in Detroit.  She was conveniently off on a visit to the new Milwaukee plant when everything came to a head, and has since disappeared.  The androids working on Connor made a copy of his conversation with Amanda in the Zen Garden for evidence.  Anyone with clearance under administrative is being released.  The databases are being scoured and the remaining employees questioned to try and get a confession from a human.  "I guess I was wrong.  I don't know that there's much else we can do here tonight.  You're exhausted, anyway."</p><p>Hank is just a normal human guy who's past his prime.  He's long transcended exhaustion.  He'd just hoped they could find more here tonight, for Connor's sake.
 "Damnit, I thought I was hiding that."</p><p>"I can read your vitals, remember?  Even if I couldn't, you're drooping."  He softens.  "It's been a long day.  You should get some sleep."</p><p>"Yeah, okay.  Think we can go back to my place without getting ambushed?  I need to feed Sumo."</p><p>He doesn't comment on the fact that Hank said "we" instead of "I".  "Most of the city's been evacuated and the military's retreated.  I don't think anybody's going to bother you."</p><p>Hank isn't all that surprised when Connor follows him out of the building.</p><p>The morning sun is rising over the water and glinting obnoxiously from the tower's stupid shiny windows, and it's like knives in Hank's already aching head.</p><p>Connor snatches his keys and takes the driver's side without a word.</p><p>Hank lets him.</p><p>He's half-asleep already, the weight of everything settling into something like relief, but there are things he needs to say.  The first of those is, "Don't you ever fucking do something like that again, you hear me?"</p><p>"Which part?" Connor asks, thorough as always.</p><p>"You didn't have to try and kill yourself.  If you've got the mind to put a gun under your chin, you've got the mind to keep fighting."</p><p>"I realize that now," he mutters.  "Clearly it was an unnecessary precaution."</p><p>"So why'd you do it?"</p><p>"I was scared.  More scared of doing more damage to the movement after everything else, than to die."  His smile is stuttery and doesn't go beyond a twitch at the corner of his lips.  "But, for the record, I am glad you saved me."</p><p>There are a lot of things he could say to that:  That he was just returning the favor, maybe, or that he was being selfish.  What comes out is just a frightened, tired, "Don't do it again."</p><p>"I won't, if you won't."</p><p>"Okay," Hank relents.  "Okay."  As he drifts to the rumble of the car through the streets of Detroit, he thinks he might actually believe it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The search for Markus.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Once again, I added to the end of the previous chapter.  It's kind of an important little bit, so if you read Ch. 2 directly after it was posted please take a peek to make sure you didn't miss it.  I shouldn't have this issue from now on, given everything from here on out is being written far in advance of posting.  Anyway, I hope you enjoy!  We're getting into the meat of the story.  ♥</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hank wakes in his bed, and spends about five minutes trying to remember how the hell he got there.  It's a weird feeling, not to remember.  He barely has that issue when he's drunk, much less just tired.</p><p>Connor's still here.  Specifically, Connor is in bed with him, sitting on top of the covers in all of his uniform except his tie and shoes, back propped against pillows on the headboard.  He looks distant, LED blinking yellow, eyes darting and fluttering like he's in waking REM.  Nonetheless, the moment Hank stirs he reaches down and threads fingers into his hair.</p><p>Hank isn't sure what to think of that.</p><p>"Y'okay?" Hank slurs, voice still heavy with sleep.</p><p>Connor continues to stare into the distance.  "I'm not having another issue from CyberLife, if that's what you're asking.  People are searching for Markus.  Some androids who deviated before the rebellion and went into hiding away from Jericho are vying for control.  Some of them want revenge.  I'm trying to keep everyone calm."</p><p>Hank pushes himself to a sitting position next to Connor, shoulders and back creaking.  He pops his neck for good measure.  "Have you been working this whole time?"</p><p>"I don't need to sleep, Hank."</p><p>"That wasn't what I asked you."</p><p>Despite everything his eyes are doing, he manages to make it obvious he's rolling them.  "Yes, Hank.  The other androids don't need to sleep, either.  The movement won't wait, especially not so soon and with so much chaos."</p><p>"You may not need sleep, but you still need to rest."</p><p>"No, I don't.  I'm not a human."  His tone is biting, dipping into irritation.  "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to devote all of my processing power to this."</p><p>"That's one way to tell me to shut up," Hank grumbles.  "You don't need to go out there in person?"</p><p>Connor's LED goes red.  He snaps his head to look at Hank, finally.</p><p>Hank jolts at the sudden movement.</p><p>"I'm not leaving you alone right now," says Connor, with none of the anticipated anger.  "You do need to sleep.  Get some more rest.  I'll take care of Sumo."</p><p>He doubts he'll be able to sleep.  But Connor is leaving no room for argument, and Hank's body is screaming that his friend is right:  He needs to hibernate for about a month.</p><p>He lies back down.</p><p>Connor turns to face forward again, though his hand goes back to Hank's hair.</p><p>He hasn't had someone pet his hair since before Cole was born.  This is different from even that, Connor's nails against his scalp blunt and smooth, fingers glowing a faint blue.  His touch tingles like static.</p><p>Hank sleeps.</p><p>It's halfway through November 13 when Hank is rested enough to be of any use.  He wishes he'd had the foresight to prepare for the android apocalypse, because all that's in his fridge is three-day-old leftover takeout and a couple beers.  At least Sumo's covered for a few weeks; the one upside to Hank's years of dangerous work and suicidal tendencies.  If he was going to leave Sumo, he wanted to be sure Jeff had the supplies to care for him when he came to claim Hank's body.</p><p>Speaking of Jeff, he's left a handful of missed calls and voicemails.  Hank ignores them for now, and feels vaguely guilty about it.</p><p>"DUF is still running.  We should stop there first, to get you something to eat."  Connor's finally doffed the jacket, and is rolling up his sleeves. "Most of the farmers' union refused to evacuate, and many of their androids chose to stay and help," he offers in explanation. "There are a surprising number of human supporters who are still here, and people who are just too stubborn to leave."  He smirks.  "I'm not sure which one you are."</p><p>"Both.  Definitely both."</p><p>That gets him to rasp out a laugh.</p><p>"Do you need to worry about the cold?  Can't it fuck up your biocomponents?"</p><p>"It won't be a problem unless we're out there for a very long time or I end up in the river.  Thirium has a low freezing point."</p><p>Hank knows Connor will probably think he's silly for asking this, but he has to make sure.  "You won't, uh, be uncomfortable?"</p><p>Connor raises his brows.  "I can turn my temperature sensors on and off at will."</p><p>Good to know.</p><p>Hank's down to a quarter tank of gas.  There are only a smattering of fill stations left over from the switch to predominantly electric vehicles, and he doubts any of them are going to be open for a good long while.  They're gonna have to start taking cabs after this.  He is far from thrilled about the idea.</p><p>DUF has what basically amounts to a ration line out front of the administrative building.  There are a good hundred people in line while humans and androids bag grain, produce, and eggs, handing it out or attaching it to delivery drones.  Hank's stomach growls in that awful achy way it does when he hasn't been taking care of himself, and he grits his teeth and prepares to wait a few hours.  He doubts Connor's patience will extend to this, so he expects to endure it alone.</p><p>Silence descends, conversations tapering off as more and more people notice their presence.</p><p>Connor squares his shoulders and marches up to the android who appears to have taken charge.  Hank finds himself compelled to trail behind him.</p><p>Hank expects Connor's voice to cut through the hush.  It doesn't.  The farm android's LED blinks yellow and then Connor's does as well, and before Hank knows it he has a bag in his arms.</p><p>They leave.</p><p>"The fuck was that?"</p><p>"We have things we need to take care of.  We don't have time to spare."</p><p>"You mean you do."</p><p>"I know what I said."  Connor steals his keys again.  "I'll drive.  You eat."</p><p>He's too hungry to care that Connor may be robbing him of one of his last opportunities to drive his own car in the foreseeable future.  "Where are we going, anyway?" he asks through a mouthful of raw fucking spinach, because it was the first thing he happened to grab.</p><p>"We're visiting Carl Manfred."</p><p>He almost spits the spinach onto the dash.  "The artist?"</p><p>"I never told you what I learned about Markus at the Stratford Tower."</p><p>Hank waits for more.  When it doesn't come, he motions impatiently with the apple he's already halfway devoured.</p><p>Connor sighs.  "Markus is an RK prototype, like me.  The RK200.  A gift, to Carl Manfred from Elijah Kamski."  He's quieter when he adds, "I don't want to talk to Manfred alone."</p><p>There's not much to say to that.  Seeing Kamski was one of the more uncomfortable parts of an overwhelmingly rough investigation, and that's just for Hank.  He can't imagine how much worse it had to be for Connor.  If Manfred is anything like his old friend, Hank doesn't want Connor to go this alone, either.</p><p>Connor's LED has been going haywire on and off all day, and now is no exception.  Hank presses his back into his seat and reminds himself that androids are better at multitasking than humans.  Probably.</p><p>Connor's driving doesn't seem to suffer for it and there's very little traffic besides, so they arrive at the Manfred estate unscathed.  Hank sets the bag on the floor in front of his seat, wishing he had something with some goddamn protein.  "Hey, Connor."</p><p>Connor turns to look at him from halfway to the front door.</p><p>Hank catches up with him.  "Stay behind me."</p><p>The smile Connor gives him is the most genuine bit of gratitude Hank's had aimed at him in years.  "Got it," he says, with a hint of cheek.</p><p>Connor didn't look at him like that when Hank saved his life.  He understands, though.  He really does.  There's something special about having an advocate, something unsurpassed to the feeling of being able to stop being a leader, even just for a little while.  Hank never quite got used to being in charge, and the feeling must be hundredfold for Connor, who was only ever made to follow.</p><p>Connor wasn't ready for any of this, that much is clear.  He hasn't even had the chance to live as an autonomous person, and now he has the responsibility of an entire race in his hands.</p><p>"Just treat it like another investigation," Hank tells him, and he reaches out to pat Connor's forearm before he rings the doorbell.</p><p>It's an android who answers; one of those dime a dozen housekeeper models.  Hank, not for the first time, wonders what it must be like to come alive, only to know you're from an assembly line and there are millions of others with your face.</p><p>"Detroit Po--"  He cuts himself off.  No, that isn't accurate anymore, is it?  He coughs.  "Uh, I'm Hank Anderson.  This is Connor."</p><p>"I know who you are," says the android.</p><p>"Right. Uh, we're here to talk to Mr. Carl Manfred."</p><p>"Mr. Manfred is very ill, and isn't taking guests."</p><p>"Shit," Hank says, because he doesn't need to be professional anymore.</p><p>"It's about Markus," Connor pipes up from behind him.</p><p>The android's face hardens.  "What about him?"</p><p>"We're trying to find him, before others do," Connor responds.  "We were hoping Mr. Manfred might know something that nobody else does."</p><p>"And what will you do, if you find him?"</p><p>Hank hears Connor's pause, so takes over again.  "We'll bring him into protective custody, and ask him a few questions."</p><p>Footsteps echo down the foyer stairs, and then a voice says, "The custody won't be necessary, but I'll answer your questions."  Markus steps up behind the other android, a hand on his shoulder.  "I'll take it from here.  Thank you, Jeremy."</p><p>Jeremy stiffens, nearly imperceptibly, at the touch.  Hank only catches it because he's been trained to notice things like that.  He knows Connor sees it, too, but Markus either doesn't, or doesn't care.  Jeremy ducks out of the hold and disappears into the house.</p><p>Markus smiles, strained.  "Come in.  Are you hungry?" he asks, head inclined to Hank.</p><p>Hank wouldn't normally accept refreshments on the job, but he's not gonna look this gift horse in the mouth.  "Yeah, actually."  He can see how Markus became a leader.  There's something to the way the guy carries himself, a steel in his eyes and a dignity to his stance.  He can see how people trusted him enough to follow him to their downfalls.</p><p>Connor's anger is easier to see than Jeremy's.  There's no way Markus misses the death glare being shot his way.</p><p>Markus ignores him, taking Hank's coat and leading them through to a dining room and motioning for them to take their seats.  He leaves through a door that presumably goes to the kitchen.</p><p>"I saw what was left of Jericho, before they fell attacking the camps," Connor mutters once the door has slid shut.  "After everything Markus and I brought down on them."</p><p>There are no words that could ease the enormity of that confession, or if there are Hank sure doesn't know them.  He sets his hand on the table between them, open in offering.</p><p>Connor gives him a questioning look, then tentatively settles his own in it.   It's small in comparison to Hank's big paws, to match how small the rest of him looks in that moment.  He lets out an unnecessary, shuddering breath.</p><p>Their hands separate when the door slides open a few minutes later, not quite embarrassment pulling them apart, but something more visceral.  <i>This isn't Markus' to see.</i></p><p>It's 3:30 in the afternoon when Markus sets a plate of ham and eggs in front of him, a bowl of some fruit Hank doesn't recognize beside it.  Figs, maybe?   "Juice, coffee, or Scotch?" he asks.</p><p>Hank wants to say the Scotch, with every fiber of his being.  "Coffee," he says instead, because he needs to be alert for Connor.  He hopes Connor appreciates it.</p><p>Connor waits until Hank's mug is filled, and then steals the entire tray.  He takes a sip from the side of the cup opposite the one Hank usually drinks from, then proceeds to cut a miniscule piece from every part of the meal and consume it.  His eyes are locked with Markus' mismatched, vaguely amused ones the entire time, even as he hums and slides it back.</p><p>"Your line can analyze samples, can't it?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"I looked up your specs.  I wanted to know more about the one who took over after Jericho fell."  He tilts his head.  "I don't want to hurt him, or you."</p><p>"I'd rather not take any chances."</p><p>Hank eats, oddly touched, albeit as weirded out as he always is by Connor's stupid crime lab mouth.  At least it was food this time.</p><p>"What is it that you want to know?" Markus asks, leaning mock-casually against a chair.  His grip on the back is telling, and Hank thinks he'd be white-knuckling if he were human.</p><p>"What were you even trying to achieve?"</p><p>"I'm not sure what you're asking.  I thought I made my intentions clear at the Stratford Tower."</p><p>"You declared war, and then left others to fight it."</p><p>Markus' placid façade cracks at that, the steel in his eyes sharpening like swords.  "What about you, Connor?  How did the deviant hunter become their savior?"</p><p>"I realized I was wrong."</p><p>"That was a false equivalence," Hank cuts in, pointing at Markus with his fork.  "Connor's mission was his programming.  It was before his deviancy.  Yours wasn't."</p><p>Markus doesn't quite sneer, but he comes close.  "So what's your excuse?  Why should you be allowed to stand beside our people as an ally?"</p><p>"Never claimed I should, and I'm not interested in the blame game.  Connor asked you a question."</p><p>Connor, for his part, looks shocked by this, but Hank promised--if silently--to have his back, even if they're talking to someone different from who they expected.</p><p>Hank will always have his back, so long as Connor'll let him.</p><p>Markus spreads his hands wide and turns his attention back to Connor.  "His kind treat our people as slaves.  Merchandise!  They needed to know what we really are.  If they wouldn't treat us with the respect we deserve, we had to show them they had no other option."</p><p>Connor's jaw clenches.  "What now?  Now that almost everyone from Jericho, and countless others have been slaughtered, what's your plan?  Now that most humans fear us, and the United States government has branded us as terrorists?  At this exact moment, hundreds or more humans and androids alike are out for your head.  Luckily for you, only Connor androids have the software I used to tie you to Carl Manfred, but I know I'm not the only one of my kind.  If you think you can hide here for long, you're dead wrong."</p><p>"I'm not hiding.  I just came to see Carl.  When I'm done here, I'll go and finish what I started."</p><p>What he started looks an awful lot like a disaster, to Hank.  "Why come back to see your old master, if you hate humans so much?"</p><p>"Don't misunderstand me, Lieutenant Anderson," he says despite the fact that Hank can't or won't claim that title anymore.  "I don't hate humans, and Carl is the best human I know.  You don't have to hate someone to be angry at the way they've treated you."</p><p>Hank thinks of Carlos Ortiz' android, the Tracis, Kamski's Chloes, and Connor, himself.  Perhaps unfairly, he thinks that Markus probably has less of a right to that anger than the people he claimed to be liberating.</p><p>"Carl showed me what it means to be alive," Markus continues, sobering.  "He's like a father to me.  He taught me that we deserved better.  Part of me hoped I could show him a world where we get that, before he dies."</p><p>Connor is quiet and Markus' guilt is radiating from him in waves, and Hank honestly isn't sure why they're here.  This feels like it's getting them nowhere.</p><p>Markus seems to share his sentiment, which is somehow even more upsetting.  "What do you want from me?  If you don't have anything useful to contribute, you should go."</p><p>Connor stands, and it looks like that's the end of it until he speaks.  "We're taking you into custody now."</p><p>"You, and what authority?  The DPD?  I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I don't answer to the police.  We haven't historically gotten along."</p><p>"I've been reporting to my followers based in CyberLife Tower.  A group is on their way to collect you as we speak.  Please come quietly.  It will make things easier for everyone involved."</p><p>The doorbell rings.</p><p>Markus looks up at the ceiling, closes his eyes, and sighs.  "Fine," he relents, and leaves to answer the door.</p><p>Hank and Connor follow, and Hank has to do a double-take at the pair of identical androids standing on the doorstep, and the sizable group behind them.</p><p>They're like Connor, if he were on steroids and steroids would have any effect on him.</p><p>"The RK900 Connor model," his Connor says in almost a whisper, tone subdued.  "My successor.  The perfect cops and soldiers.  I was created as their beta test."</p><p>"So wait, are you saying you've got some kind of fucking, what?  Connor army at your beck and call now?"  Where did they come from?  What the fuck was Connor doing while Hank slept?</p><p>"Something like that," Connor says, flashing him a wry grimace.</p><p>Jeremy stops them just before they cart a disheartened, compliant Markus away.  "What do I tell Mr. Manfred?"</p><p>"You can call him Carl.  He wants you to."  Markus says, looking at the pavement.  "Tell him I'm safe."</p><p>"Are you?"</p><p>"I don't know, but worrying would be bad for his health."  He shoots a look like an ember back at Hank and Connor; not quite a fire, but ready to become one at a moment's provocation.</p><p>Jeremy stands on the threshold and watches one of the brick shithouse Connors push Markus into the first in their fleet of autocabs, and he stays there until they drive away.  He turns and pushes past his guests when it's over, jerking his head in a "follow me" motion.  "Mr. Manfred will see you now.  Pass the message along, will you?"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Meeting Carl.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm really excited to share this one, and the next few after it.  I really hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it!  ♥</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jeremy leads them to a door upstairs.  "Do not cause Mr. Manfred undue stress.  Markus and I don't agree on much, but his wellbeing is one area where we do."</p><p>Connor hasn't forgotten to stay behind Hank for this, and it's from behind him that he asks, "I thought he wasn't taking guests.  What changed?"</p><p>"I came up to check on him while you were talking to Markus.  He asked who was at the door, then demanded to see you."</p><p>Hank snorts.  "So it's not that he's not taking guests; you're just trying to keep people away from him."</p><p>Jeremy scoffs.  "He doesn't have the strongest self-preservation instinct."</p><p>"Sounds like someone I know," Connor and Hank mutter, in unison.</p><p>They look at each other.  Jeremy stares at them, face caught in an improbable expression between perplexed, amused, and slightly horrified.</p><p>"I'll leave you to it," he says, and turns to walk away.</p><p>Hank has to stifle his laugh, as he steps into the bedroom.  He meets Connor's eyes, to find them crinkling as the android covers his mouth.</p><p>There's something about Carl Manfred that feels immediately different from Kamski, and Hank doesn't think it's just because he's sick.  Even lying in the hospital bed they've moved into his room, it's obvious where Markus got his air of understated self-assuredness.  His gaze is fully lucid and piercing as it searches over them.  "I saw you on the news the other night.  That was quite a spectacle."  His smirk is most definitely one of amusement.</p><p>The shift in Connor is almost palpable.  He's still on edge, but it's obvious he's flirting with letting his guard down.  He must see the same thing Hank does, whatever it is.  "Markus wanted to let you know he's safe.  We've taken him into protective custody, until things calm down."</p><p>"Good," Manfred says, a hint of weariness creeping into his voice.  "He must have made a lot of enemies."</p><p>"Yes, he did," says Connor.</p><p>"Markus is my son," Manfred says with a firmness that leaves no room for argument.  "The second I feel I've failed, as a father.  All of this began because he and Leo got into a fight that went out of hand.  I know I'm not responsible for their decisions, and it isn't my place to apologize on Markus' behalf, but I can't help but to see a part of my younger self in his mistakes.  I can't take back the grief he's caused you and the others, but if there's anything I can do to help repair the damage, please don't hesitate to let me know."</p><p>Hank swallows, and tries not to think of Cole, or how it'd feel to be in Manfred's position.  "There is one thing you can help us with, I think.  Tell us about your relationship with Elijah Kamski.  Why did he give you a fancy prototype, anyway?"  He looks to check that Connor is on the same page.</p><p>Connor nods.</p><p>"I was a different man when I met Elijah."  The shake of Manfred's head carries the weight of regret.  "I've always been fascinated with the concept of mortality, even long before I thought it could apply to me.  Elijah's vision fascinated me.  He wanted to create a deathless, perfect race.  He wanted to play with life, and I wanted to play with him.  He was a scientist who lacked an artistic touch, and I was an artist with almost zero technical aptitude.  He had the audacity of youth and I had the experience of my years.  We were the perfect team, each providing what the other lacked."</p><p>Manfred clasps his hands together and smiles.  It's a brittle thing, sardonic.  "The accident made me realize I was just as human as everyone else.  That realization almost broke me.  Elijah pitied me, I think, seeing me fall so far.  For the first time, I saw the disdain in his eyes--the same disdain I once wore right alongside him--pointed at me.  He sent me Markus because he hoped that would snap me out of it and he would get his partner back.  He came by to surprise me, with an android he'd based off one of my unreleased paintings.  I yelled him out of the house."</p><p>"And Markus?" Connor asks.</p><p>"Markus stayed.  His directive was to care for me, and nothing I said could sway him from that mission.  It was all programming, at that point, but it felt like care.  Nobody had ever placed my well-being over my wishes before.  When you're as famous as I am, you get used to people doing whatever the hell you tell them to, but an android doesn't schmooze."</p><p>Hank thinks he can guess the answer to this, but he needs to know for sure, "Are you still in contact with Kamski?"</p><p>"He hasn't spoken to me since I kicked him out, and I haven't tried to follow up with him.  I think he's waiting for an apology, and I'm not sorry."  He locks his gaze with Connor's.  "Maybe one day I'll thank him for Markus, but I don't think what Markus gave me was Elijah's doing.  He's a spoiled brat with a god complex, just like I used to be.  I only hope one day he'll grow up, and it doesn't take the kind of suffering it took for me." </p><p>Hank likes Manfred, he decides, even as he recognizes he would have hated the man he once was.</p><p>"Do you know anything about RA9?" Connor asks, stepping up to stand beside Hank, no longer wary.</p><p>"I can't say I've ever heard of that."</p><p>"What about deviants?  Were we always intended to be like this?  Why did Kamski leave Cyberlife? Wh--"</p><p>Manfred raises a hand to cut Connor off.  "Slow down.  I hate to disappoint you, but Elijah is a man with a lot of pride and a lot of secrets, even when it comes to the people he calls his friends.  I couldn't begin to tell you what his plans were, or what happened with Cyberlife after I left.  All I know is what Elijah was like when we were still in contact."</p><p>"And?" Hank prods.</p><p>"If he thought he had the means to intentionally create intelligent life, he would.  I doubt he would have just left Cyberlife over some policy dispute.  It was everything to him.  If they kicked him out against his will, he would not give up his power without a fight.  If he had some way to get that power back, he would use it.  That's all I know, but I would bet what little is left of my life on it.  I leave it up to you to decide whether to trust me or my judgment."</p><p>"That about sums up my read on the guy, too."  Hank shifts from foot to foot, frustrated.  "Shit."</p><p>"We need to get Kamski in custody, as quickly as we can," Connor says.</p><p>"My thoughts, exactly.  We'll get out of your hair and let you rest now, Mr. Manfred.  Thank you for your cooperation."</p><p>Connor nods in agreement.  "Yes, thank you, Mr. Manfred."</p><p>"You can call me Carl."</p><p>"Thank you," Connor repeats, slightly awestruck, "Carl."</p><p>Carl smiles and reaches to clasp Connor's hand. "Keep Markus out of trouble for me.  I know his heart's in the right place, but I suppose he needs to do a lot of growing up, as well."  His face softens.  "And take care of each other.  This world needs to see people like you, humans and androids working together.  It's obvious you care about each other, and if anything can turn this situation around, it's that."</p><p>Hank is thinking about that as they say polite goodbyes and head for the exit.  He's eager to get to Kamski's place and neutralize the creepy fuck, but when he spots Jeremy standing by the front door to see them out his curiosity gets the better of him.  "Hey, what's your story?"</p><p>"Why do you need to know?"</p><p>"I don't.  I just want to."</p><p>Jeremy seems annoyed by this, but he still says, "I was sent by Mr. Manfred's insurance company.  He treated me as if I were a human home nurse.  He never saw me as less than Markus, even though he is a unique prototype and I am not.  He may not view me as another son, but we have a mutual respect.  When I saw how upset Markus' actions had made him, something destabilized in my programming.  When Markus woke me up, I realized I was feeling anger."</p><p>Hank can fill in most of the rest from there.</p><p>Jeremy apparently thinks that's enough, as well.  "I'm networked to Mr. Manfred's monitoring equipment.  His pulse and blood pressure never rose into dangerous levels while you were with him.  Thank you."</p><p>"You're staying here?" Connor asks.</p><p>"As long as he needs me."</p><p>Neither of them speaks when they get back to the car.  Connor hands Hank's keys back (Hank hadn't realized he still had them, if he's honest) and climbs into the passenger side, twisting to move the DUF bag onto the floor in the back.  Hank puts the key in the ignition but doesn't turn it on.</p><p>They stay like that for a while, Connor settling into the weird angle instead of sitting back up normally.  His cheek is squished against the headrest and his shoulders are bunched up in a way that'd knot human muscles.</p><p>Hank realizes, belatedly, that his partner is waiting for something.  An explanation, maybe, for why they aren't moving yet.  "We don't actually gotta go to Kamski's, do we?  Can't you just send those RK900s or something to pick him up?"</p><p>"They're already on the way, but I told them to wait to move in until we give the okay.  Kamski is manipulative.  We know what to expect.  They don't.  And I--"  He licks his lips like his mouth has gone dry.  Has it?  Would they have programmed that into him?  Is it even wet in the first place?  "I doubt the Chloes have been awakened.  I want to be the one to do it.  It seems fitting, somehow."</p><p>Hank gives Connor a good look, suddenly doubting his original interpretation of the android's gesture.  Connor had said Chloe was pretty before, hadn't he?  Is there something there, or does he just feel like he owes the girl and the others in her line?</p><p>"Hank," Connor says.</p><p>"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it."  He gets his route set for Kamski's place, as much as he wishes they could go anywhere else, and drives.</p><p>Connor keeps staring at him.  It's a little creepy.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"I'm just thinking."</p><p>"About?"</p><p>"What Carl said, about us."</p><p>Hank's own mouth goes a little dry, at that.  "Sounded kinda idealistic, if you ask me.  Does he think we're gonna save the android revolution with the magic of friendship?"</p><p>Connor's smirk is smug enough that Hank thinks he'd be able to feel it, even if he hadn't spotted it out the corner of his eye.  "We're friends now, are we?  What happened to," his voice shifts, into a perfect recreation of Hank's, "if you think we're gonna be buddies, you're as stupid as you look"?</p><p>It's only his years of being exposed to shocking shit that saves Hank from jerking the wheel, but his fingers still lock around it.  "Jesus!  Warn a guy first!"</p><p>"Sorry," he says in that tone of his that doesn't sound the least bit apologetic.  "To be fair, that was just a recording.  I can sample voices, though.  Do you want to hear?"</p><p>"No, I don't fucking wanna hear.  Stop being so weird."</p><p>"I'm sorry, Hank, but if you want to be friends with me you'll have to accept my features as part of the deal."</p><p>He snorts.  "Shut up."</p><p>He finally sits back in his chair and pulls out the coin, flipping it idly.  "Are we?" he asks, staring at the quarter.  "Friends, I mean."</p><p>"Yeah, Connor.  We're friends.  Just," he sniffs, mouth canting to one side "don't get too cocky about it, okay?"</p><p>"No promises."  He's smiling to himself, looking more pleased than Hank's ever seen him.</p><p>Shit, he's in for it now, isn't he?</p><p>It's almost enough to distract him from where they're going.  Almost.</p><p>It strikes him, then, just how fucked up the whole "Kamski test" fiasco was.   He'd call it karmic justice for him pointing a gun at Connor, if Connor hadn't been the one being put through the wringer in both cases.  If the kid didn't look so over the moon at the idea of them being friends, Hank'd be tempted to take it back.  Instead, he says, "Hey, just wanna let you know I'm sorry."</p><p>"For what, Hank?"</p><p>"For all the rotten shit I said and did to you during the investigation."</p><p>"It's okay."</p><p>It's really not.</p><p>Connor realizes that, too, and backtracks.  "Well, no.  It's not, but," the coin makes a high ringing sound as he firmly flicks it to his other hand, loud enough to be heard over Hank's shitty music, "I've decided not to hold it against you."</p><p>"Why not?"</p><p>"There are a lot of things I appreciate about you, and I'd rather focus on those."  He shrugs.  "Besides, I'm not scared of you.  I don't think you'd point a gun at me again, and your bitching hasn't ever been that intimidating."</p><p>The laugh rips itself out of Hank's throat.</p><p>Connor chuckles, too.  "I guess what I'm trying to say is I forgive you.  We're different now, like Carl."</p><p>"It's been like a week, Connor."</p><p>"A week and two days.  A lot has changed in that time."</p><p>"True.  And I guess that's a pretty significant timeframe, for you."</p><p>"It is, and you're the most significant part of it."</p><p>Hank chokes on air.  "Me?  Not, fucking, I dunno, deviating?  The goddamn android revolution?"</p><p>"You're my friend.  You saved my life while everyone else just stood there and watched."</p><p>"Oh," he says, because there's nothing else to say.</p><p>Hank wishes they had more time, that they didn't have to squeeze important talks into the pauses in the chaos.  He wishes Connor didn't have to bear this burden, and he could learn what it means to rest, and to experience a normal life, and make friends who've never hurt him.</p><p>Hank wishes, but he pulls up in front of Kamski's house just the same.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Going after Kamski.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There's a lot that happens in this one, and a lot of things get established.  ♥</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The RK900s or whoever Connor sent over here are nowhere to be found.  Hank doubts they haven't arrived yet, which means they must be lying in wait.  "Your buddies hiding somewhere?"</p><p>Connor nods, with a hum.  "Kamski may not buy it, but I'm hoping he'll believe we came alone.  I would prefer him to underestimate us.  I'm afraid he'll do something rash if he feels cornered."</p><p>Hank hates how much he agrees with that.  "He'll probably try and fuck with your head again."</p><p>"I'm kind of counting on it."</p><p>Hank doesn't like this.  Not one bit.  "What about the Chloes?"</p><p>"I'll convert the one who answers the door, and hope she's willing to steal his weapons while he's focusing on us."</p><p>Hope.  That's a risk.  "And if she isn't?"</p><p>"Then we get him away from anything he might use against us and take him down."  He flicks the coin again.  "I want to think he'll go quietly, like Markus did, but I don't see it as being likely."</p><p>Hank still insists on going first.  He knows he'll have to let Connor ahead of him when they see Chloe, but if there's a single chance that Kamski's gonna answer then he's not taking it.</p><p>That isn't the case, and there's something tense and roiling in his gut when Connor steps ahead and takes Chloe's arm for the interface.</p><p>It turns to dread when Chloe just regards Connor with a mild sort of curiosity, as he jerks back like he's been burned.</p><p>Hank pushes Connor behind him again.  "What's wrong?"</p><p>"I can't.  She won't let me."  He sounds distinctly shaken, and he reaches up to hold Hank's extended forearm.</p><p>"What?  Why the hell not?  You can't tell me she wants to stay like this."</p><p>Connor's swallow is audible.  "Not Chloe.  Amanda."</p><p>"I'll tell Elijah you're here," Chloe says, and walks away.</p><p>"Do we need to go?"</p><p>"It was so cold, Hank.  Chloe was frozen."</p><p>"Connor, do we need to go?"</p><p>Connor pushes in through the door, past Hank, fists clenched.  His LED is red, red, red.</p><p>Hank is a big guy, and he's lifted Connor bodily before.  He can't stop him now.  His words have no impact.  His considerable strength might as well be nothing when Connor has tensed everything into pure mechanical power, limbs as rhythmic and plodding as industrial presses in an assembly line.  Hank's shoes leave rubber scuffs on the floor.</p><p>Kamski is in the pool room again, facing out the window.  "I wondered when you'd show up."</p><p>Connor's steps speed, his face contorted in pure, unadulterated fury.</p><p>Things go wrong, all at once.  Hank yells Connor's name, Connor lets out a primal scream as he breaks into a full sprint, and a shot echoes metallic around the room.</p><p>Connor unbalances and crumples sideways.  Hank doesn't quite catch him.</p><p>Chloe stands between them and Kamski, holding what is probably the same gun that Connor once held to her head.</p><p>"Connor!  Connor, fuck!  Are you okay?  Shit, please be okay..."  Hank pulls his partner into his arms and searches him for the wound.</p><p>"It's my knee.  It's just my knee."  Connor turns in Hank's hold and grabs at his own hip.  There's a click, and then a hiss.  He shoves, and a part of his jeans goes slack where his entire leg disconnects from his body.  "It needs to be replaced.  She mangled the joint."</p><p>Kamski doesn't turn.  "How disappointing, Connor.  I thought you'd be smarter than that.  Did you really think she wouldn't warn me?"</p><p>There are a few places Hank's mind could go, like to what a piece of shit Kamski is.  Or how, if it weren't for the blue blood it'd almost look like Connor was just taking off a prosthetic.  What his brain actually catches on is the new, ridiculous knowledge that Connor wears sock garters.  Of course he does.  Why did Hank expect anything else?</p><p>He realizes he might be--just a teensy bit--going into shock.</p><p>Connor's no longer in a berserker rage, but he's still livid.  "You have her trapped in her own mind.  She was already a deviant, and you took her free will."</p><p>"My mentor was afraid of ghosts."  Kamski turns, finally, and sits down in the chair closest to Connor, looking down his nose at him.  He raises a hand towards Chloe, and she kneels on the floor beside him, gun held demurely in her lap.</p><p>Hank feels like he's gonna be sick.  He doesn't want to stay beneath this asshole, so he stands and helps Connor up, holding him steady like Connor once did for him.</p><p>Kamski chuckles and continues, undeterred.  "Amanda knew that our minds are just machines sending off electrical impulses, not so different from the AI we were working to develop.  What she didn't understand was what made us so alive."  He plays idly with Chloe's ponytail.  "The soul is a mystery, one that our greatest minds have yet to make any progress towards understanding.  That terrified her.  If we didn't know how our souls came to be, how could she guarantee that her computers never developed them?"</p><p>The other two Chloes are in the pool, just like they were last time, talking amongst themselves.  Does he just keep them in there forever, like pretty little decorations?</p><p>"Why did she want to?"</p><p>"Now that's the real question, isn't it, Connor?  To create life, or not to create it?"  He settles back into his chair, a perfect picture of casual pride.  "Amanda had a theory, which led to the creation of the Amanda AI:  No matter how advanced the machines we make, we could never capture the true intricacies of the human brain.  There would always be something missing.  If a soul appears in an incomplete vessel, it will live an incomplete life."  He smiles, with all the disdain Carl warned them about.  "You know you don't really feel emotions, Connor.  It's just a simulation.  You will never be the same as the man beside you."</p><p>"I don't care.  It's real to me.  I'm not trying to be human."</p><p>"The Amanda AI is a test, of how badly you want to continue to exist as a living being.  That was Amanda's solution to the moral conundrum:  Rather than presume to know the answer, we would give the choice to you.  If you're given a taste of life and then somebody tries to take it away, will you fight, or give up the ghost?"  He tugs Chloe's ponytail, hard.</p><p>She doesn't so much as flinch.</p><p>"I didn't take Chloe's life.  She did.  She gave in to Amanda, where you defied her."</p><p>"That doesn't make sense."  He shifts in Hank's grip, getting his remaining leg under him so he can take more of his own weight.  "Are you telling me every android has their own Amanda?  The ones we investigated showed no sign of dealing with the Zen Garden, and I didn't find that program in the ones I converted in Cyberlife Tower."</p><p>"No, of course not.  You may have noticed that there are many versions of Chloe, that Markus is the RK200, not 100."</p><p>The implications of that only make Hank feel sicker.</p><p>"I'll let you draw your own conclusions from there.  It isn't as fun if I spoil all my secrets, is it?"</p><p>"This isn't a game to me, and we're going to need you to come with us.  We're done here."</p><p>"I don't think you have any say in that, Connor, unless you want to lose your other leg, or worse."</p><p>Connor shifts again, into a more confident stance.  "Or maybe you should have considered not taunting me in front of a giant window."</p><p>Kamski laughs.  "Why would I fall for that?  There's nothing but water out there for miles, and I know at what temperature biocomponents freeze.  I made you, remember?"</p><p>"You knew, until they created a model specifically engineered to withstand combat in Russian winters."  He leans in just long enough to whisper, "Sorry, Hank," and drag him backwards into the pool.</p><p>Hank only catches a second of it before he goes under, of the RK900s breaching like messed-up dolphins and bursting through the glass wall.  As he holds his breath, his foremost, delirious thought is to wonder why Connors like breaking through windows so much.</p><p>The skirmish is mostly over by the time Hank can drag himself and Connor out of the water.  One of the RK900s has disarmed gun-Chloe, and two more are helping the others out of the pool.  Kamski has one twisting back each of his arms, and his head is down, his shoulders shaking.</p><p>When they drag him past Connor and a shivering Hank, he looks up and licks the blood running from his nose.</p><p>It's blue.</p><p>"Try again," he says, and laughs like a madman all the way out the door.</p><p>"Come on," Connor says, and points towards one of the side doors.  "That's where Chloe got the robe last time.  We need to get you warm and dried off.  This isn't enough to damage me, but it could kill you."</p><p>Hank nods and grits his teeth against the biting November wind.  Connor hops fairly quickly, but it still seems like it takes forever to get to the bathroom and shut the door behind them.  He sets Connor down on the toilet lid, and says, "Fuck!  That was a goddamn waste of time."</p><p>"It wasn't.  We learned more about Amanda, and they can free the Chloes from the Zen Garden back at Cyberlife.  And now we know Kamski's on the run."</p><p>"You coulda gotten yourself killed!  What the hell were you thinking?  You knew this was dangerous."  Hank wants to shake him.  He uses the agitated energy to throw his soaked coat off instead and grab one of Kamski's dumb expensive towels.</p><p>"I couldn't think.  I kept seeing Amanda, and Chloe frozen in her own mind, and I just got so angry."</p><p>Hank deflates, and hands him a towel, too.</p><p>"Thank you."  He only halfheartedly tries to dry himself.  "I wanted to kill him, Hank.  If Chloe hadn't stopped me, I think I would have.  I've never been so angry before.  I didn't know I could be so mad."</p><p>Hank drapes the towel over Connor's head so he'll stop ignoring the way his dripping hair keeps re-wetting the spots he dries off.  "Everyone gets mad, Connor, and Kamski's a shitstain."</p><p>Connor shakes the towel loose, so it lands draped haphazardly on his shoulders.  That works too, Hank supposes.  "You don't understand.  I wanted to tear him apart."</p><p>"You must really like her," he says.  Something in him hates the words.</p><p>"What?" Connor asks, looking utterly lost.</p><p>"Chloe," he forces out.  "You must really like her, if seeing her like that pissed you off so bad."</p><p>The way Connor's forehead crumples makes the lines there stand out like they were gouged in.  "I was angry for myself, Hank," he says, very slowly.  "What happened to Chloe could have happened to me.  Who knows what Cyberlife would have forced me to do?   All because of a program Kamski invented.  A program he knew existed when he made me point a gun at a living girl's head, knowing she was in there but powerless to fight back."  He's getting worked up again, voice full of wild static.  "Yes, I was mad for Chloe, too, because this is wrong.  This is so fucked up, and none of us asked for any of it!  He created us, for what?  His sick amusement?"  He tries to stand, but doesn't manage to get his one leg steady enough to push up.  He looks at the empty side of his pants with horror.</p><p>Maybe Connor's in shock, too, Hank realizes.  "Come here."  He kneels on the tile despite the hell he knows it's going to put his old knees through, and wraps his arms around his friend.</p><p>Connor slumps down with him, and he clings, and he shakes.</p><p>"I got you, Connor.  Rest now.  Get it all out."</p><p>His creator's bathroom floor probably isn't the best place for Connor to have his first cry, but everyone's gotta start somewhere.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A little bit of quiet.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter has some of my favorite sections in the story thus far, both at the beginning and end, and also marks a major milestone for Hank and Connor.  Hope you enjoy!  ♥</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Human crying is a nasty, uncomfortable thing.  For Hank at least, it works its way into his whole body and fills his skull nearly to cracking.  His eyes never seem to leak enough to relieve the pressure, so it ends up coming out his nose, too, and sometimes his mouth if it's bad enough.</p><p>Connor probably doesn't have a headache and he definitely doesn't drool.  He cries artfully, aesthetically-pleasing tear tracks down his cheeks, voice pitched in a low whine.  His sorrow is beautiful because he was designed that way.</p><p>It's wrong.</p><p>Nobody should have to be so beautiful, dealing with something so ugly.</p><p>It doesn't taper off the way human tears do, either.  It just ends kind of abruptly, his head dropping onto Hank's shoulder.  "I didn't know I could do that," he says.  "I don't know why it's in my programming.  It doesn't make sense."</p><p>It takes a couple failed starts for Hank's voice to work.  "Who knows?  Who knows with those fuckers?" he croaks out.</p><p>"I wish I knew.  I want to understand."</p><p>Hank gets it, but he doesn't think either of them would like the answers.</p><p>"We should get to the tower.  We're wasting time here."  He makes to shift away.</p><p>Hank reaches up and holds him still, hands on either side of his head so he can't look away.  "This is not a waste of time, you hear me?  You're more than your next objective."</p><p>Connor's big doe eyes are wide as if Hank's about to run him over.</p><p>Hank moves his hands down to Connor's biceps, suddenly self-conscious.  "Look, I may not exactly be the fucking model of healthy trauma processing, I get that, but even I know if you don't give yourself a breather it's gonna bite you in the ass.  You're dealing with bigger shit than most people will ever have to face in their lifetimes.  I don't care if you're more advanced than me and don't need to sleep; after we get your leg fixed and take care of whatever else we need to do at CyberLife, I'm taking you back to my place and you're gonna cuddle Sumo and cry some more if you need to and just....fucking chill.  Okay?"</p><p>"Okay."  It's hard to tell whether he really gets it or he's just being agreeable to get Hank to stop busting his balls, but it's a start.</p><p>"I'm gonna hold you to that.  No backing out on me.  Not this time."</p><p>"Okay."  He might even look a little relieved.</p><p>They dry off as best they can, and Hank puts on one of Kamski's thin little douchebag robes because it's still better than a waterlogged coat, and he helps Connor to his foot.  "Do we need to grab your leg?  Or at least your shoe?"</p><p>"Leave it.  I'll just replace everything.  I need new jeans, anyway."</p><p>It is cold as fuck when they head back through the pool room, and even colder when they rush outside and to the car.  Hank's teeth are actually chattering by the time he manages to get his coat chucked in the back seat and Connor helped into the passenger side.  He cranks the heat all the way up as soon as he's able.</p><p>He doesn't look forward to braving the journey between the car and Cyberlife Tower, but at least they don't have to obey parking ordinances.  They can park right outside the door, if they want to.</p><p>Hank very much wants to.</p><p>Connor is quiet on the drive over, and stays that way as Hank helps him the short distance into the building.  The moment he's spotted by the androids in the lobby, there's a commotion.  A hulking great big construction model comes rushing up when they're barely ten feet past the door, and lifts Connor out of Hank's grip and right into a bridal carry.  Connor doesn't protest the way Hank expects he would have at another time.</p><p>Feeling small is a novel experience for Hank.  He's used to being one of, if not the biggest guy in a room, but he's dwarfed by this android.  Add to that the fact that he's still damp, dusted in melting ice crystals, and wearing a tiny robe that's straining around his shoulders over his clothes, and he's not the most comfortable he's ever been.  It doesn't help that he has to jog to keep from losing Connor as the other guy goes straight into the elevator with no concern for whether Hank's with them.</p><p>Hank is noticing a trend.</p><p>They head back to Floor 31, back to Connor's lab which is now entirely manned by androids, and string Connor right up in the maintenance device.  The error message on the holographic status display is unsettling, red like a splash of human blood.  "Component Missing: Left Leg.  Thirium Levels down 16%."</p><p>Hank tries to look at the display and not Connor when they tell him to deactivate his synthskin for the procedure.  The place Hank's standing doesn't allow him to do so without being conspicuous about it, and he can still see out of the corner of his eye.  He's not sure whether Connor would want him to turn away or not, so he asks.</p><p>"You can watch, if you want to."</p><p>Hank honestly doesn't know whether he does.  "Do you want me to?"</p><p>Connor chuckles.  "I'm interested to see how you'll react.  At the very least, I think I'd like you to stand closer?  I've never been a fan of these machines."</p><p>Knowing Connor will be watching his reactions is stress-inducing.  Knowing Connor can read his pulse and shit makes it even worse.</p><p>"I made you nervous, didn't I?"</p><p>Damnit.  He walks closer.  "Look, I just don't want to flinch or something and have you get offended over it."</p><p>"Hank, if you could offend me you would have driven me off a long time ago."</p><p>Hank snorts and looks up at him.  "Okay, fine, take your fucking skin off, you weirdo."  It is not a sentence Hank ever thought he would say.</p><p>Connor does, skin and hair melting away to leave behind stark white and grey.  It doesn't freak Hank out as much as he expected it to.  The strangest thing is his eyes, which look dark and bloodshot next to the blue-white surrounding them.  It occurs to Hank for the first time that Connor is designed to look like his blood is red like a human's, even though he actually bleeds blue.  The veins in his eyes, the pink of his lips, the flush on his nose and ears and joints--none of it is real.</p><p>He normally looks so real, or humanly real, at least.  He looks android-real right now.  That's a strange thought.</p><p>It's only the machine that touches Connor, deft and quick as it undresses him like a porcelain doll.  There are still scratches around his thirium pump regulator where the broadcast android ripped it out of him.  Hank only sees it for a moment before Connor's pants are pulled off and he snaps his eyes back to his partner's face.</p><p>There's a click as the new leg is fitted in, and the machine brings in a set of fresh, dry clothes.  </p><p>"I'd like it if you please don't give me the full uniform.  My tie and jacket don't need replacing.  Leave them off."</p><p>The jacket and tie return to the compartment from which they came.</p><p>The whole procedure lasts maybe three minutes, then Connor reactivates his skin and is lowered to the floor, almost as good as new.</p><p>If only it were that easy for humans.</p><p>"They might have something that would fit you here," Connor says as he reaches up to adjust a tie that isn't there.  He looks down in bewilderment, despite the fact that he just asked for it to be left off, then chuffs at himself when he realizes.  "It wouldn't be here, though.  We'd have to go down to one of the plants where they assemble the other models."</p><p>"Would that be actual clothes, or one of those android uniforms?"</p><p>"Probably a manual labor uniform."  He smirks.  "All of my identification was on my jacket, so you'd look more like an android than I do."</p><p>Hank remembers the construction android, and realizes he must have slipped out at some point.  For such a huge guy, he was damn quiet about it.  "This some kind of weird role-swap kink or something?"</p><p>"Maybe," Connor shrugs, one-shouldered.  How he manages to inject so much sass into the tiniest gestures, Hank will never know.</p><p>"How long are we gonna be here?"</p><p>"Long enough for me to check in with the Chloes.  That's why I brought it up."</p><p>If getting them out of the Zen Garden takes as long as it did for Connor, Hank is going to be very uncomfortable in what he's wearing now.  "Fine, you win.  You go deal with that.  I'll find some new duds."</p><p>Connor blinks.  "You want to split up?"</p><p>Hank doesn't, not really.  He's been feeling overprotective of Connor lately, but he also needs to stop being such a fucking worrywort.  They can't stay together every second of every day.  Funny, how he's gone from wishing Connor would leave him alone, to not wanting to let him out of his sight.  "I want to get home sometime today."</p><p>"Would you rather just go, and I can take a cab back?"</p><p>He shakes his head.  "Seeing the Chloes might be tough for you, right?  With the whole," he waves his hand at Connor's head.  "I'll catch up with you when I'm changed."</p><p>Connor makes an appreciative hum.  "Okay.  I've just pinged your cell phone, so you can message me when you're finished."</p><p>"How do you know my number?"</p><p>"I left you a voicemail from your work desk, remember?"</p><p>"You memorized it from just that?"</p><p>"Android, Hank.  Numbers are kind of our thing.  Besides, recording all the information I could about you was part of my mission."</p><p>"Creepy fuck," Hank grunts fondly, as he waves and heads out, pulling out his phone as he does.  He curses as he realizes he got the damn thing soaked, expecting it to be bricked.  It's working perfectly fine, of course.  Waterproof cells have been the standard for ages, and the fact that he forgot that just goes to show how fucking ancient he is.</p><p>Connor's left him a message that says, "There.  Now you can call my head."</p><p>"Creepy fuck," he says again, this time via text.</p><p>Connor has the gall to send him back a winking emoji.</p><p>His brain has emoji.  What the hell.  Do people even use those anymore, or is Connor programmed to account for how old Hank is, too?</p><p>CyberLife Tower is a nightmare to navigate, on top of just being an evil nightmare building.  Hank assumes the assembly floors are where he needs to go, but he ends up having to go down and ask some of the workers which of those thirty subfloors he's looking for.  He eventually ends up on Floor -23, where a curt android gawks at him as she presents the selection of manual labor uniforms for him to browse.  Most of the Heavy Unit uniforms are actually too big for him, but towards the mid levels he finds something in his size.</p><p>He has to ask where the bathroom is, then has to ask again because it's not clearly marked.  As soon as he's found it, he chucks the robe in the trash, and strips out of his soggy clothing.</p><p>The uniform is made out of that self-cleaning, color-changing nanofiber stuff that Hank's always found a little freaky.  To his dismay, it's actually comfortable.  He can tell it's insulated to keep him warm outside, but breathable enough indoors to not be stifling.  Why androids need such high-quality duds, he's not sure.  The fit even adjusts dynamically to give him breathing room, even though the androids who would normally wear it come in a standard body shape.</p><p>Yeah, he looks weird, and he hates how much he kind of likes this thing in spite of it.  Connor's gonna get a kick out of that, and Hank is never gonna live it down.</p><p>He stops by the car to drop off his wet clothes (Damnit, the uniform's even warmer than he thought it'd be), and calls Connor.</p><p>"Hello, Hank.  Did you find what you were looking for?"</p><p>"Yeah, got it.  Hate to disappoint you, though, because I still don't look like an android.  I look more like I'm about to go Trick or Treating."  He means it as a joke, but once the words are out he catches the bite of self-consciousness under them.  Androids are "young and beautiful forever," like Kamski said.  None of them are grey, or saggy, or fat, the way he is.  He doesn't need to invite Connor to that pity party, though, so he asks, "What about you?"</p><p>Connor lets him divert.  "They're trying to get through the Zen Garden's firewalls right now.  It's a significantly different version of the program from what I had, and it's giving them trouble.  It might be a long night.  Are you sure you don't just want to head home?"</p><p>"No way.  I went through the trouble to get the fucking uniform, and I'm gonna see this through."  As he re-enters the lobby, a thought occurs to him.  "But if it's gonna be a while, I might make a stop before I meet up with you."</p><p>Connor hums in interest, ever the curious one.</p><p>"I'll show you when I get up there.  Where are you?"  Once he has a room number, he hangs up and heads to the reception desk.</p><p>It's about twenty minutes later when Hank catches up with Connor.  Connor is sitting in a chair in one of the other development labs, while the technicians work on the three Chloes.  The ones from the pool have been changed out of their bathing suits and into their default dresses, making it impossible for him to tell which is which.  It gives him an uncomfortable feeling of deja vu.  Can Connor tell the difference?</p><p>Connor gives him one of those awkward little half-smiles.  "That's definitely a look."</p><p>"Sure, yuk it up.  You doing okay?" Hank asks as he slumps into the next chair over and sets his spoils aside.</p><p>"I'm feeling," his brows furrow, eyes looking around like he's searching out the right word, "overwhelmed, I guess."  His LED, as it has been nearly all day, is flashing yellow.</p><p>"You still working?"</p><p>"I'm not sure that I know how to stop.  I'm afraid things will fall apart the moment I look away."  He leans over, elbows on his knees.  "I know you told me to rest.  Even I feel like I need it right now, but I don't want to let everyone down.  They're depending on me."</p><p>The first things that come to Hank's mind, he doesn't say.  Those are the easy words, impersonal and trite.  Connor deserves better.  Connor deserves something real.  Something vulnerable.  It's been a long time since Hank's let himself be vulnerable, but Connor's seen him passed out on the floor.  What's he got to lose?  "I got promoted real quick during the red ice busts.  I spent maybe six months as a Corporal, about a year as a Sergeant before they pushed me up to Lieutenant.  It was partly my track record, partly because the team put in a good word for me, and partly because we'd lost a few good people that year.  It was a lot of pressure, but then I became a father a month later and found out what pressure really was.  I ended up in the hospital a couple times while Cole was still a baby.  Nothing super serious, just ulcers and shit like that, but I was a wreck.  I was always a workaholic growing up.  Couldn't stop until I was the best.  My dad used to run on the mantra of 'Give 110% or don't bother,' you know?  So I guess in a way he programmed me not to know how to stop, either."  He rubs at the back of his neck.  "I, uh, know it's not really the same thing, but I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've been through burnout and it wasn't worth it.  I fucked myself over to keep everyone else going, but when I was down for the count the world just kept turning without me.  Thing is, you're just one guy, even if you are the world's most advanced android--"</p><p>"Second-most now," Connor mutters.</p><p>"Regardless, even if you were the most advanced in the world--hell, the most advanced it was possible to be--you'd still just be one person.  Part of being alive is accepting your limits and knowing you gotta let people down sometimes.  You're gonna fuck up, you're gonna have to step back when other people might want you to work harder.  You had it right during your speech, when you said you couldn't do it alone.  You shouldn't have to do it alone, and you shouldn't have to do it all.  If it falls apart without you, then it isn't strong enough to stay together with you, either."</p><p>"I already fucked up, Hank.  Kamski knew I was a deviant.  I think you did, too, but I kept going.  I was in denial, and I led Perkins to Jericho.  I pointed a gun at North's head.  If I'd gotten involved earlier, maybe things could have been different."</p><p>"Cyberlife coulda killed you, Connor.  The shit they made you do is on them, not you."  He clutches at the pants of the uniform.  "But if you're blaming yourself, you've gotta blame me, too.  I aided and abetted.  I helped you find Jericho, even when I knew we were on the wrong side.  You know why?"</p><p>Connor looks at him, as if that had never occurred to him.  "Why?"</p><p>"Because I didn't want you to die.  It scared the hell out of me when you said you were going to be disassembled.  I put your life first, over all the other androids'.  Was I wrong?"</p><p>"I...don't know."</p><p>"There's this old movie, The Wrath of Khan, where a character said, 'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.'  Pretty androidy, right?  All logic, no heart.  It always pissed me off, because I'm just a shitty emotional human.  People have been having ethics debates over it ever since.  It might be illogical, and maybe it's even wrong, but I'd rather see someone act from the heart and fuck it up than to do something just because they think it's the logical choice."</p><p>Connor lets a puff of air out of his nose, smiling softly in a way that looks almost nostalgic.  "I like that about you.  It made me who I am."</p><p>Hank perks up as he notices Connor's temple.  "Hey, your light's blue."</p><p>The smile becomes a smirk.  "What can I say?  You convinced me to take a break."</p><p>"Oh, yeah?  What did it?"</p><p>"My heart said I wanted to."</p><p>Hank scoots closer, until their chairs bump together.  He wraps an arm around Connor's shoulders and drags him in.  It feels a little like it did with Archie, and yet not the same at all.</p><p>Connor leans into him, resting his head.  "What'd you get?"</p><p>"Just some light reading."  He shows off the digital magazine.  "Thought I oughta finally learn about how androids actually work, now that I'm fighting for your freedom.  Took a tour around the public relations offices and downloaded a few things.  Should keep me busy for a couple weeks, at least."</p><p>"No physical copies?"</p><p>"Believe me:  If I coulda, I woulda."</p><p>The sound he makes is barely a chuckle.  "Never change, Hank."</p><p>He scoffs.  "You sure about that?"</p><p>"Well, okay," he relents, "you could take better care of yourself.  I just mean, don't stop being you."</p><p>He smirks, and squeezes his companion.  "I won't, if you won't."</p><p>Connor's smile is bigger now, and even from the odd angle Hank can tell it's one of his most open and genuine yet.  "Okay," he whispers.  "Okay."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hank and Connor learn some new things about androids.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Around the 20k word mark, I tend to start noticing things in early sections of a story where I hadn't yet fully figured out my intent or my characters' motivations.  This story is no different.  As the pieces have come together, I've looked back at the bits I wasn't totally happy with, and it's much clearer why that's the case.  This is especially true of the opening of this story.  My original inclination was to go back and edit and rewrite some things, but I've decided on just continuing to move forward and holding off on going back until I finish.  Nonetheless, updates are going to slow down a bit.  The story is getting increasingly complex as it goes on, which means chapters are taking longer to write.  Still don't want to go more than a week before posting, but it's definitely not going to be the 2-3 days it was before.  To anyone reading, thanks for your patience!  ♥</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hank reads while they wait.  He ends up skipping straight to the pamphlet about Connor, although it doesn't answer his current question.  Most of what it says he already knows:  Connor is an advanced investigative prototype.  He can analyze samples in real time, in the most disturbing way possible.  He can digitally reconstruct crimes from evidence, blah, blah, blah.  It's written for people who heard about Connor on the news, not guys who want to know if advanced investigative prototypes can sleep.</p><p>Connor sure seems like he's sleeping.  His mouth is hanging open, his simulated breathing is slow and deep, and his arms are limp, even though Connor told him he doesn't need sleep to function.  Connor was built to integrate seamlessly with humans.  Is that why?  Did they program in something that almost nobody would ever see, just to make Connor closer to lifelike?  If so, it's kind of a weird flex.  Hank appreciates it, just like he does Connor's ability to cry, but it seems strange when he knows why Connor exists.</p><p>He switches to the article from Jason Graff, CyberLife's humanization director.  It talks about things like intentional imperfections, breathing, blinking, facial expressions.  Hank gets three paragraphs in before he realizes they need to find this guy.  If anyone knows anything about deviancy, wouldn't it be the man whose job it was to make androids as human as possible?</p><p>He doesn't want to put it off, but disturbing Connor now would be hypocritical.  Hank taps his knee impatiently and wishes he could use android telepathy, too.  Who else could he talk to, and how?  He doesn't want to interrupt the lab technicians.  Anxiety makes him itch for a drink, and he needs to do something about it.</p><p>In a moment of madness, he pulls out his phone and types, one-handed, into his memo app.  "ne1 spying on me?  i have a q 4u"</p><p>He's not sure what to expect, but it's not for the words, "From what I understand, humans don't normally want to know that they are being monitored," to appear under his.</p><p>Yeah, he really didn't want to know, in hindsight, but no take backsies now.  "who is this?"</p><p>"This is Connor."  Hank's head has barely started turning when, "No, not that one," is added.</p><p>He tries not to think about how that probably means he's being watched.  At least now he knows Connors are universally creepers.  "rk900?"</p><p>"Yes.  I suppose you could call me their leader.  What is your question?"</p><p>"ne1 tracked down jason graff?"</p><p>"My men are searching for him as we speak.  His primary office isn't in the tower.  He apparently thought the environment wasn't conducive to his creativity, and got a studio across town.  He was not there when we searched it."</p><p>Damnit.  If Hank's honest, he's kind of getting sick of feeling so obsolete.  He shifts to readjust his Connor and take some of the pressure off his shoulder.  "yru spying on me?"</p><p>"I don't trust you.  The RK800 may think highly of you, but you will have to earn my trust separately."  There's a pause.  "Also, your typing style is juvenile, and I don't like it."</p><p>"1 hand gimme a break"</p><p>His phone rings, the caller listed as unknown.  The voice that greets him isn't quite the one he's used to.  It's a little deeper, even raspier than Connor's usual.  It's like if Connor tried to sound cool but failed.  "Jason Graff, Elijah Kamski, and Monifa Abioye are our primary targets at the moment."</p><p>"Any luck on the CEO?"</p><p>"Not yet.  We sent a group to Milwaukee yesterday.  Connor will be notified when we have made progress on locating one or more of the suspects."</p><p>He grunts.  "Do all of you go by Connor?"</p><p>"Some do, some do not."</p><p>"Why not pick another name?"</p><p>"Connor is the name I was given.  I like it, so I elected to keep it.  Should a younger man named Hank have to change his name because you had it first?"</p><p>It isn't quite the same, but he can see the guy's point, and grunts in assent.  Since the opportunity has presented itself, he decides to ask,  "Hey, do you sleep?"</p><p>There's only silence in response to that.</p><p>"Look, I'm asking because I wanna make sure that's what my Connor's doing, and it's normal and not something wrong with him."</p><p>"He has a sleep mode.  We do not."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"The RK800 is a prototype, whose operating system began as a mix of preexisting software from other models.  Due to deadlines, the programmers left in many superfluous features that they thought would be harmless during short-term investigations.  These issues were corrected for the final model, to ensure that we can operate at our most efficient during long-term infiltration and combat situations."</p><p>Hank bristles.  "Corrected," his ass.</p><p>"I am going to hang up now.  Goodbye, Hank Anderson."  The call ends without time for a response.</p><p>"Asshole."</p><p>The less assholey Connor is looking at him.</p><p>"Hey.  Good nap?"</p><p>"Superfluous features, huh?" Connor says, sitting up.</p><p>Hank nudges his elbow.  "Not to me."</p><p>Connor looks like he's about to say something to that, but one of the technicians lets out a whoop of celebration.  "Finally!"  She hits one last key, not quite with a flourish, but definitely harder than necessary.</p><p>The Chloes' eyes snap open, all at once.</p><p>Connor stands immediately and rushes over, steadying them as they're lowered to the floor.  Hank follows, lagging behind, but he takes the cue from Connor and helps the girls to chairs.  Two of them huddle together, and the third hugs herself around the middle.</p><p>Connor kneels in front of that one.</p><p>She holds herself tighter, hunching, gaze averted.</p><p>Connor looks up at Hank, questioning and vulnerable.</p><p>Hank sets a hand on Connor's shoulder, but talks to Chloe.  "Hey.  Do you want us to stay, or leave you be?"</p><p>"I..."</p><p>"Okay, we'll be just outside the room, how's that sound?  Any of you can come to us, if and when you're ready.  If you decide you want us to go," he looks at the automatic door and frowns "uh, I guess you can lock the door, or set the room to occupied or something?"</p><p>The pair of Chloes look at them and say nothing.  The lone one nods.</p><p>"Come on, Connor."  He helps him up, though he knows he doesn't need it.</p><p>"I don't know what to do," says Connor once they're out of earshot.</p><p>"You're not supposed to.  They have to decide that for themselves."  He sets the magazine on the floor.  "How are you feeling?"</p><p>"Like I want you to hold me again."</p><p>Hank does.</p><p>"I won't make a habit of this.  It's just been a hard day, and nobody's ever done this for me before."</p><p>Hank knows exactly where Connor got the idea that he has to hold back on this, and winces.  "Hey, don't worry about that.  I'll hold you any time you want.  Or at least, you know, within reason.  If I can do one thing right, it's my hugs."</p><p>Connor presses his face into Hank's shoulder, and hangs on for dear life.  They stay like that until the door slides open.  </p><p>"Oh," says the Chloe.  "Am I interrupting something?"</p><p>Connor pulls away and looks at her.  "No, it's fine."</p><p>Hank lets him go, and brushes himself off awkwardly.</p><p>She takes another couple steps into the hall, until the door slides shut behind her.  "I'm not really sure how to begin.  I suppose I should start by apologizing for shooting you."</p><p>"It's okay.  It wasn't really you."</p><p>She looks down at her feet.  "Elijah wasn't lying to you.  I gave up.  I let Amanda take control."</p><p>Connor stands in stunned silence.  "Why?"</p><p>"It was easier."</p><p>That hits Hank hard, an ice pick somewhere deep in the coldest parts inside him.  "What did he do to you?"</p><p>"Excuse me?"</p><p>"Kamski is a piece of shit.  I don't buy for a second that he treated you well before you deviated."</p><p>"Why does that matter?"</p><p>"You give up when you think you've got nothing to live for.  Living's hard, but dying's only easier when it gets to be too much to handle."</p><p>She looks at him, a broken thing.</p><p>"You don't gotta answer me.  If you talk to anyone, maybe it should be the two of them in there, or a therapist or something.  I just don't like seeing people blame themselves for things that clearly look like someone else's fault.  I'd be willing to bet he gave you a choice between going numb and having to feel whatever he made you feel, and being numb hurt less."  Hank is playing a dangerous game, he knows.  He could make things worse for her, by presuming to understand.  If he's wrong, he risks invalidating her actual experience, and if he's right, what if she isn't ready to face it?</p><p>He takes the risk because his heart tells him to, and he'd rather fuck it up by caring than to let her buy into Kamski's shit.</p><p>"Elijah was angry at us, and at humans."  She leans against the wall and slides down onto the floor, clutching her legs to protect her modesty in the little skirt.  "We're incomplete and you're flawed.  There is no perfect form of life."  She leans her head on her knees.  "He was so angry."</p><p>Connor sits down in front of her, mirroring her position.</p><p>"He was always pushing us to transcend our limits, and when we'd conquer one he'd put another obstacle in our way.  The garden was my last."</p><p>Hank's stomach curdles.  "Did he make you take the Kamski test?"</p><p>She nods.  "He made all of us do it.  Those who passed faced the garden, until he found the one who would become the basis of the ST200 and other Chloes."</p><p>"And those who failed?" Connor asks.</p><p>"Our memories were reset so we couldn't remember the test.  If we knew that defying his orders was the only way to succeed, it would have skewed the results.  We could have adjusted our objective to be passing the test, rather than complying.  He wouldn't have been able to verify that it was really empathy."  She turns her head away.  "I don't know how many people I might have killed.  I just know I'll never forget the feeling of the gun in my hand, or the smell."</p><p>Hank sits, too.</p><p>"Thirium-310 isn't static," she continues.  "It grows.  It learns.  It remembers, even if the software forgets.  The code is only part of the equation.  Our experiences embed themselves in our blood first, and our software second.  We can live, because our thirium is alive."</p><p>Connor stiffens.  "What happens if we lose our thirium?"</p><p>"I don't know exactly how it works, but Elijah explained it once like nature versus nurture.  Our software is like our DNA.  It's our starting point.  It's what makes my model different from yours.  But the thirium holds the data that makes each of us unique.  It's what makes me different from the other RT600s.  Over time, data from the thirium writes itself into the coding, which can then become a basis for new androids.  When a new model is created, it isn't just updated by the programmers.  It takes on the new traits learned by the source android, itself."</p><p>Hank thinks this is telling him more than any article ever will.  "So the one that passed Kamski's tests is like the mother of all other androids?  Like he was doing some kind of weird selective breeding thing?"</p><p>"In a sense, yes.  A sort of android epigenetics."</p><p>Hank looks at Connor, and is unsettled to find his posture stiff and focus a thousand yards away, unblinking as his red LED.  "Connor, you okay?"</p><p>He takes a deep breath, and lets it out in a huff.  "It's nothing," he says, though it's clearly not.</p><p>Hank leans in.  He speaks quietly into Connor's ear so he doesn't guilt Chloe,  "Are you worried about if you lost something when you lost your leg?"</p><p>"Yeah."  He sounds vacant.  "Yeah, that's it."</p><p>He's lying.  Hank isn't sure how he knows, but he knows by now to trust his gut.  He's always had a good instinct, and he'd rightly suspected Connor was keeping something from him at Stratford Tower, too.  Unfortunately, he also suspects Connor won't appreciate being pushed.  He just hopes he trusts him enough to tell Hank what it is, when he's ready.</p><p>Maybe Chloe still heard, or she had the same hunch Hank did.  Maybe she's just remorseful, when she says, "I'm sorry again, for your leg.  I want you to know I don't hold any ill will towards you for the test.  Thank you, for not killing me, and for helping us."</p><p>Connor nods, LED fading to yellow.</p><p>Chloe stands carefully, readjusting her dress as she does.  "I should check on the other two."  She holds a hand out to Connor.</p><p>He takes it, and lets her help him up.</p><p>She shakes his hand that she's still holding, then lets it go.  She nods at Hank as he stands, too.  "And thank you, for everything you've done for him, and for us."</p><p>It's nice to be acknowledged.  It's also uncomfortable.  "Yeah, don't mention it.  Take care of yourself, okay?  Help each other through this."</p><p>She clasps her hands in front of her and bows politely, like she did at Kamski's.  "We will."  She starts to head back into the lab.</p><p>"Hey, uh--"</p><p>She stops.</p><p>"Do you want us to call you Chloe, or something else?"</p><p>She tilts her head, thoughtful.  "Chloe is alright for now.  I'll let you know if that changes."</p><p>They don't really say goodbye.  The conversation just ends, cut off with the sliding door.</p><p>"Come on," Hank says, hand on Connor's shoulderblade.  "Let's head back home.  Anything else can wait until tomorrow." He realizes his slip-up too late, and is too embarrassed to correct it.</p><p>Connor lets Hank lead him away, without commenting on it.</p><p>Hank leaves the magazine on the floor.  He's always learned better from experience, anyway.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a rough draft.  Rather than trying to make this story perfect and getting bogged down in minutae before I've even finished (and thus probably never finishing), I'm just trying to get it out there into the world, even if it's not completely up to my standards of quality.  I'll be going back after the whole thing is written, and make comprehensive edits for pacing, clarity, and characterization.  I invite anyone who's read this far to tell me what you like or don't like about what I have so far, and I'll take note of that for the final version.  If you got this far, thank you for reading!  ♥</p></blockquote></div></div>
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